Totally Pointless Fluff (not worthy of a title)
by Veralidaine
Summary: I typed this up in about five minutes. Yeah. It's completely, utterly pointless R/H fluff. Its only purpose is to help cure my writers' block. So don't expect brilliance, here.


Disclaimer: If I owned any of these people, I wouldn't be suffering my way through my honors English   
class...  
  
A/N: I had the spontaneous urge to write some R/H fluff. I have no idea why...Anyhoo, here 'tis. I'm   
including a cute lil' poem I found in a book of sixties song lyrics and poems. It speaks to me as more  
of a Harry poem (since I associate EVERYTHING with Harry Potter...), but it serves this fic's purpose,  
and it's cute. So here it is.  
  
It's Raining in Love  
by Richard Brautigan  
  
I don't know what it is,  
but I distrust myself  
when I start to like a girl   
a lot.  
  
It makes me nervous.  
I don't say the right things  
or perhaps I start  
to examine,  
evaluate,  
compute  
what I am saying.  
  
If I say, "Do you think it's going to rain?"  
and she says, "I don't know,"  
I start thinking: Does she really like me?  
  
In other words  
I get a little creepy.  
  
A friend of mine once said,   
"It's twenty times better to be friends   
with someone  
than it is to be in love with them."  
  
I think he's right and besides,  
it's raining somewhere, programming flowers  
and keeping snails happy.  
That's all taken care of.  
  
BUT  
  
if a girl likes me a lot  
and starts getting real nervous  
and suddenly begins asking me funny questions  
and looks sad if I give the wrong answers  
and she says things like,  
"Do you think it's going to rain?"  
and I say, "It beats me,"  
and she says, "Oh,"  
and looks a little sad  
at the clear blue California sky,  
I think: Thank God, it's you, baby, this time  
instead of me.  
  
  
The sweet-scented springtime breeze ruffled his hair and whipped the grass around him, rippling down  
the hill in a somewhat liquid-like manner. Ron pushed his hair back out of his eyes, enjoying the warm  
sun on his face after such a long, cold winter. He put his hands behind his head, staring up into the   
endlessly blue sky, full of fluffy white clouds. It was a gorgeous, mid-March day, and for once in his  
life, Ron didn't feel like complaining about anything. Of course, it wasn't all to do with the spring  
weather...  
  
Next to him, twirling a small flower between her thumb and forefinger, Hermione stared up at the clouds,  
squinting through the bright sunlight, her hair spread out behind her head on the grass. She sighed and  
turned her head to face him, still twirling the tiny blossom in her left hand. She said nothing, though.  
  
Nervous, Ron turned his head to face her, and grinned lopsidedly. "What?"  
  
She shrugged and went back to cloud-gazing, smiling faintly. Ron rolled his eyes. Girls are weird, he   
thought. Weird, but for some reason, unexplainably wonderful at the same time. How very odd.  
  
Hermione sighed again. Ron raised an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
She just shrugged again. It was really getting on his nerves. "No, really, what?"  
  
"Just thinking."  
  
"'Bout what?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes again. Must be the springtime air. It did funny stuff to people. Just the other day,  
Lavender Brown kept batting her eyes at him. He didn't quite understand that, either... He sighed,   
resigned to making pathetic conversation. He thought for a moment, trying to come up with a topic that  
wouldn't turn into an argument fifteen minutes in. "So, d'you suppose I ought to try out for Quidditch?"  
  
She shrugged. "If you want to, do it." She turned to face him again. "I'd come watch you play."  
  
Ron turned red before remembering that she would come anyway--Harry played as well. Luckily, he was   
saved her noticing by a rather large gust of wind that blew Hermione's hair into her face and scattered  
the petals from the small flower in her hand. She sat up, brushing her hair out of her face. "Do you  
think Harry's finished Quidditch practice yet?"  
  
He sighed. Well, it had been nice. "I dunno...Might be."  
  
Much to his secret delight, she flumped down next to him onto the hillside again. He could save himself  
the suffering and just tell her, but then...Well, he didn't know where she stood with Krum, and...Well,  
he wouldn't be surprised if she liked Harry--after all, every other girl in the school did. Ron sighed,  
tired of thinking these same thoughts over and over again. "She can't possibly like me because..." The   
list was endless.   
  
She was looking at him again.   
  
He turned to face her, eyebrows raised and fighting a nervous grin. "WHAT?"  
  
She giggled lightly. "You looked so serious a second ago. Is something wrong?"  
  
"No," he muttered, shaking his head. "Nothing's wrong." His eyes locked on hers for a moment before he  
nervously looked away, letting out a soft sigh and hoping he wasn't too obvious.  
  
She sighed loudly. "If you're sure."  
  
For a fleeting second, Ron thought she might know that he wanted to tell her--even better, that she  
WANTED him to tell her. But, then, that was ridiculous. On the other hand...No, he couldn't cope with it  
if she DIDN'T want him to feel that way. It would ruin everything--they couldn't ever go back to how  
they were now if he decided to spout out his feelings like that. But it was so miserable, keeping it to  
himself like this. He couldn't do it forever...Well, he'd certainly not been able to contain his   
jealousy when it came to Krum, and even though he hoped it hadn't been too obvious, maybe it had been a  
clue. Maybe he wouldn't have to say it. But then, he couldn't be totally passive.   
  
Maybe he could just say it really fast...  
  
No, he was being stupid. Painfully stupid.  
  
And yet...  
  
He needed to let her know. Not wanted; NEEEDED. For the sake of his sanity. Well, maybe he could wait   
until later, when he had gathered his thoughts. No, he scolded himself, you can't put it off. Do it now!  
He took a deep breath. What if it ruined everything? He'd just have to take that chance. At least he'd   
have it off his chest.   
  
Exhaling loudly, he turned to face her. She raised her eyebrows expectantly and he froze. This was it.  
"Uh...Hermione, I...uh..."  
  
"Yes?" she prompted, after a moment's pause.  
  
"I, uhm...I wanted to...uh...TELL you that...uh..." SPIT IT OUT! he thought. "I just...I uhm..."  
  
"Hey guys!"  
  
Ron and Hermione both jerked into sitting positions, looking at Harry in surprise. He gave them a   
quizzical look. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Uhh..." Ron said stupidly, glancing quickly at Hermione. "I..."  
  
"No, Harry," Hermione said, in a somewhat higher voice than usual. "Nothing's wrong. We just didn't hear  
you coming."  
  
"Oh," he said, switching his Firebolt to his other shoulder. "Okay. S'pose they're serving lunch yet?"  
  
"Probably," Hermione said, nodding.  
  
Ron said nothing. He stared at his feet, thinking. He had been SOOOO close...He followed as Harry turned  
back up towards the castle, oblivious to his friends' silence. Ron started as Hermione fell into step  
next to him. "Ron?"  
  
"Uh-huh?"  
  
"What was it you were trying to tell me?" It wasn't really a question--Ron could tell.  
  
"I...Uhm..." He immediately returned to stuttering. For some reason, he was incredibly inarticulate now.  
  
She smiled softly. "Tell me later, okay?"  
  
Relief washed over him. But it was soon replaced with nervousness. What would he say when they finally  
got the chance to talk, and she asked him about it? He couldn't lie; he'd have to tell her. And he   
couldn't just stutter stupidly again.  
  
It was a predicament. What could he do? He could write her a letter, or...No, not a poem. That was WAY   
too stupid. Well, he could get her flowers or something. Or candy. Or...Where WERE these thoughts coming  
from? He needed something simple, he thought as he walked into the entrance hall. Simple, but effective.  
Maybe he could...Well, no. That wouldn't work.  
  
Maybe he could just say it really fast...  
  
A/N: Heh...I wrote this in, like, five minutes. Yeah, I mean it. I dunno...I just had the idea last   
night at about two-thirty in the morning. I think it was to do with the three cups of tea I had before  
realizing it wasn't decaf...  
  
A'right, then, no flames, please. This is just to help cure my writers' block until I can work on the  
Christmas thingy...  
  
Okay. Please do review. As Ebony Foxfire would say, "Toodle pip and all that."  
  
~ Veralidaine 


End file.
